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Monthly Archives: October 2014

A peasant and his wife were walking along a dusty country road; a Mongol warrior on a horse stopped at their side and told the peasant he would now proceed to rape his wife; he then added: ‘But since there is a lot of dust on the ground, you must hold my testicles while I rape your wife, so that they will not get dirty!’ Once the Mongol had done the deed and ridden away, the peasant started laughing and jumping with joy. His surprised wife asked: ‘How can you be jumping with joy when I was just brutally raped in your presence?’ The farmer answered: ‘But I got him! His balls are covered with dust!’

“Use the word obdurate in a sentence.”
“I can’t.”
“Why not?”
“I don’t know what obdurate means.”
“Oh. Okay.”
“Do you?”
“No.”
“So how would you know if I even used it the right way?”
“I wouldn’t.”
“So I could have used it in a sentence then.”
“You could have.”
“Where did you hear that word.”
“Yesterday I heard it used three different times by three different people.”
“In what context?”
“I don’t remember.”
“What did the people look like?”
“One of them was an old man. He was wearing a black overcoat and a scarf.”
“It was really hot yesterday.”
“Then another man said it. He was walking down the street and he said it into his phone.”
“That’s a little bit of context.”
“Not really.”
“You’re right.”
“And then a woman said it while I was standing in line at the market. She said it to her kid.”
“Well now that’s all the context you need right there. Was she angry when she said it?”
“No.”
“Was she pointing at the kid? Did she say something like, Stop being obdurate, and then she wagged her finger in the kid’s face?”
“No. She was flipping through a magazine and she showed a picture of a woman in a blue dress and then she said something-something obdurate.”
“Huh. Well, let’s look it up. Where’s your phone?”
“I didn’t bring mine.”
“I didn’t bring mine either.”
“You said we should come here and look at the moon without any distractions.”
“That is what I said.”
“It is a very nice moon.”
“Crescent moons kind of freak me out.”
“Whenever I look at a crescent moon I always picture a woman using it as a chair, with her legs dangling off, like a woman in a naughty sailor’s outfit, and she’s winking at me.”
“I think that’s a logo for a record company.”
“Which one?”
“I forget.”
“I know which one that is. That’s the one, with the guy, and the coke sting.”
“He got set up.”
“Yeah, yeah, and then he died.”
“No, I thought he went to prison.”
“Maybe.”
“He had an Egyptian sounding name.”
“I thought he was Italian.”
“No, no, wait, he was Jewish.”
“With an Italian last name.”
“Maybe he was half Jewish.”
“Was his mother Jewish?”
“I have no idea.”
“I can’t remember his name but I can remember that it sounded Italian and that he was Jewish.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means I’m done looking at the moon.”

After years of responding to me with barely concealed disgust and something just short of withering contempt, it appears my brother is now able to answer my questions with a modicum of humility and graciousness. My brother, who invented a new type of solar cell technology, knows I’m going to ask him what he thinks are stupid and pointless questions, and I know that he doesn’t want to answer these stupid and pointless questions, but I ask them anyway, because to me they are not stupid and pointless questions, they are just questions. I see my brother maybe three times a year at family functions he feels he has to attend out of respect for our father and the memory of our late mother, and since I am not versed in nanotechnology for device physics, there is not much for me to discuss with him. Therefore I’m resigned to asking him questions like, How are you (to which my brother’s typical response has always been, “The same as the last time you asked me that question”) and, What have you been up to lately (to which my brother’s typical response has always been, “The same as the last time you asked me that question”). I saw my brother a few weeks ago and for the first time he actually made light of my stupid and pointless questions, but he was not rude about it, which, to me at least, was a breath of fresh air. For instance, several months ago my brother finally got married, and recently he became a father for the first time. I too have a child of my own, so when I saw him at Thanksgiving I asked him how it felt to be a father, a stupid and pointless question, no doubt, but one to which he responded with, “I’m sure it feels the same way to me as it does to you.” Then my brother smiled, slapped me on the back, and walked away. I know I should be excited about this turn of events, and I am, but I also know that the brightening of my brother’s mood has more to do with my father’s ill health. As soon as my father dies my brother will no longer feel obligated to attend family functions, and, as such, will no longer have to speak to me or tolerate my inquiries into his daily activities. After all, my brother is a busy man. His research will have long-lasting implications in the field of mobile communications.